


i'll carry you home

by broship_addict



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Anal Fingering, Andreil and their cats, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:38:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9286937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broship_addict/pseuds/broship_addict
Summary: “I thought we agreed that you were getting rid of it. Not coming back with two.”“We agreed that I would take the cat to the shelter. I did.”Or, Andrew and Neil and their cats, in seven parts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked:
>
>> AYE I GOT A PROMPT: Andrew and Neil and how they got the cats? Like from a shelter? Or did Neil just bring them home one day?
> 
> Anonymous asked:
>
>> honestly just andrew + neil with their catss,, like omg
> 
> (warnings for brief talk about abuse in part 5 and nsfw in part 7; some things are from the extra content) 

1.

It was the middle of winter and uncomfortably cold. Andrew was bundled up in blankets on the sofa, half-assedly working his way through a level, when Neil tried to sneak in through the door.

It didn’t work very well. Their lock was loud, something both of them had seen as a good thing when they bought the apartment, and Andrew had always been disconcertingly aware of Neil. He glanced over briefly before refocusing on the television screen, satisfied that Neil appeared to still have all his limbs and no black eyes. Rapidly executing a combo, he managed to drop the boss’ health bar a good amount before having to dodge an attack with a grimace.

A hissing sound and empathically whispered “ _fuck”_  made him look back up. On screen, his avatar lost a life.

“I thought we agreed that you were getting rid of it,” Andrew said, attention caught by the two kennels Neil had almost succeeded in hiding behind his body. “Not coming back with two.” Andrew did not put any particular effort into making his disgruntlement clear, but Neil had always been able to notice his little tells. Neil grinned sheepishly at him, finally managing to get out of his shoes with both hands full, and shuffled over to stand in front of the television.

“We agreed that I would take the cat to the shelter. I did.”

Andrew scoffed, game forgotten. “Don’t be a smartass. It was implied.”

“Not really,” Neil argued. “You liked him but you didn’t want to admit it.” He gestured vaguely with the kennel in his right hand, which resulted in a furious yowl from the hell beast inside.

Andrew did not dignify that with a response. The hell beast, an oversized ball of brown and white and orange – of fucking _course_ – fur, had scratched him almost immediately after it was found wandering in their apartment. Its aggression had most definitely not been endearing to Andrew. Meanwhile, the second kennel stayed silent, two eyes gazing out at him through the metal mesh.

“The shelter said the one we found would have died if he hadn’t snuck into our apartment,” Neil said, finally placing the kennels down onto the floor and working at the latches. “They think he was dumped out by his previous owners.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Or it could have run away.”

“Funny,” Neil said sarcastically, making a face at him and getting batted at by the hell beast’s tail as it sauntered out – punishment for not paying attention.

A smile threatened to pull up the corners of Andrew’s mouth, something that had been happening with alarming frequency lately. He resisted it, and instead pointed at the second kennel, Neil having finally managed to unlock it.

“Does this one had a sob story too?”

Neil was trying to coax the cat out with his hand, pulling away just in time to avoid having teeth sunken into his fingers. “They were going to euthanize him,” he said quietly. It became apparent why as the cat wobbled out of the kennel, legs spread wide and whole body shaking.

Andrew watched Neil run his fingers through black fur, watched the way he helped guide it upright when it threatened to tilt over. It didn't look mangled; other than the rumbled fur and gait, he would have assumed it to be perfectly fine. “What’s wrong with it?”

Andrew realized he shouldn’t have put it that way when Neil flinched, so minute that no one else would have noticed.

“The shelter didn’t know. I’m taking them to the vet tomorrow.”

Neil was pointedly not looking at him.

Andrew sighed and bent down to pull the original hell beast away from his legs, where it had seemed intent on using his denim – already covered in hairs – as a scratching post, and dumped it solidly on the floor to Neil’s other side.

“We’ll keep them,” Andrew said, also noticing the way the line of Neil’s shoulders relaxed. “As long as you’re the one cleaning out the litter box.”

The hell beast yowled again before climbing onto Neil’s lap. Andrew watched them, and wondered what it was that always brought the strays to him.

 

2.

Andrew invited himself onto the trip to see the vet. Or rather, he planted himself behind the wheel and asked Neil where to drive.

It hurt, a little, to see the surprise on Neil’s face, as if he didn’t expect Andrew to still agree to the cats, much less have any interest in their well being. Andrew kept his eyes firmly on the road and told himself it didn’t matter.

The drive was quiet; Neil did not need to repeat the directions and the two cats in the back stayed silent. Once, when Andrew took a turn slower than he normally would have, Neil looked over at him with wide eyes, but must have decided against saying anything.

They got to the clinic on time, despite how slowly drivers were moving in the snow. As usual, Neil began unbuckling even before Andrew pulled into the stall – a habit he probably wouldn’t ever grow out of, much to Andrew’s ire – and climbed out of the car before the engine could turn off. He pulled the two kennels out of the back and let Andrew take the one with the hell beast, before they made their way to the front desk.

If Andrew had expected much of a difference between human hospitals and vet clinics, he would have been disappointed. The wait was just as long and boring, the magazines all smelled musty, and some snot-nosed kid in the corner was no doubt producing a plethora of germs. Andrew entertained himself by tapping rapidly on the armrest of his chair, watching as the expressions on the other patrons ranged from annoyance to looking like they were willing to accept death immediately.

When Neil’s name finally got called, Andrew found that even the procedures on the hell beast were similar. It yowled the whole way, but finished the checks without any problems.

“We’re going to have to run some tests on this one,” the vet eventually announced, gesturing at the other cat. Neil tensed, which she must have noticed, because she continued with “If I’m right, there should be nothing bad to worry about. Would you still take care of him if he had a minor disability?”

Neil didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

He didn’t look at Andrew, as if scared that he’d veto his call.

“Good,” the vet said, sounding pleased. She passed over some paperwork and a pamphlet to Neil. “You’ll need to sign this, to give us permission for the tests, and the pamphlet has some information on safety and diets for your pets,” she told him. Andrew didn’t think Neil had ever looked so determined about something since playing Exy with the Foxes.

“How long would the tests take?” He asked.

“Everything should be done in a couple hours.”

Neil thanked the vet and Andrew gave her a small nod of acknowledgement as they exited the office, the hell beast still carried by Andrew. They paid before Andrew steered Neil out of the door, uninterested in spending any more time in the waiting area than necessary. Standing outside, he found himself staring down at the hell beast and trying to ignore the nervousness coming from Neil.

“Home?” Neil finally asked, second kennel clutched firmly in his hands. Years, and Andrew still liked the way it sounded coming from his lips.

 

3.

“It’s a disorder called Cerebellar Hypoplasia,” the vet had said, sorting out the various printouts she had gotten from the testing. “It isn’t infectious, and won’t affect much other than your cat’s coordination.”

Andrew thought that was a bit of an understatement. The cat’s legs splayed out as it tried to walk, and every once in awhile it seemed in danger of falling over. That didn’t stop it from scampering after the other hell beast, limbs flying, or from trying to snuggle up next to Neil.

Neil, of course, adored it. He’d pull away from kissing Andrew to indulge the pest, researched articles for how to take care of it, and had no problems letting it and the hell beast curl up next to him and steal his valuable body heat.

Regardless of whether or not they made a nice picture – light filtering into the apartment and shining off the angles of Neil’s face, the way he’d look so fucking soft and gorgeous as he smiled down at them – Andrew was less than impressed with the additions to their household. The hell beast liked to weave its way between his legs as he walked, which wouldn’t be so bad if its tiny and infinitely less graceful shadow didn’t try to copy. On the few afternoons when Neil was too busy, either with Exy or the wobbly one, the hell beast liked to climb onto _Andrew’s_ lap, which was intolerable. Equally so was their habit of sneaking into the bed.

“Get them off,” Andrew snarled one night, sick of being woken by sudden weights added to the bed.

“Mmm?” asked Neil.

“The fucking cats. Get them off the bed.”

The two pests had settled themselves between Andrew and Neil, drawn to the area with most body heat. Andrew watched in the dim lighting of their night light as Neil rolled over so he was facing Andrew and the cats. He sighed sleepily, one eye still screwed shut, before grabbing hold of the two of them and rolling back over. The bed shook as the cats were unceremoniously dumped onto his other side and Neil moved away from Andrew to curl around them.

Andrew ignored their angry mewls. “Neil.”

“Andrew.”

“The cats. Off.”

Pulling the covers up higher, Neil said, “I’ll keep them to this side. They’re warm.”

They were entering dangerous territory. Both Andrew and Neil could be stubborn shits, but Andrew had promised himself that he would never do anything to try to control Neil. It was a stupid fight about cats, but the outcomes could range from Neil giving in – dangerous for their cobbled together relationship – to Neil finally getting sick of Andrew’s restrictions and limits and leaving.

So Andrew caved in.

“Keep them away from me,” he finally said. He scooted back so he was pressed against the wall, and closed his eyes, trying not to think about the lack of Neil’s warmth right in front of him.

When Andrew woke up, Neil was gone but the cats were still there. The hell beast looked lazily at him, before resting its head back onto the little pest’s spine. Just because he was feeling bitter and spiteful, Andrew shoved them off the bed, wrapped the sheets tighter around himself, and resolved to sleep in until Neil returned from his run.

 

4.

Neil raked his fingers along the back of the little pest, and made a face when his hand came out covered in cat fur.

“We should name them,” he said, as the cat tried to arch its back back into him. “Since there are two.”

From the table, where he was powering through a crossword puzzle, Andrew pointed at the hell beast. “Cat one.” He pointed at the pest in Neil’s lap. “Cat two.”

Because the world was filled with irony, his next clue was _“The Cat in the Hat” author_.

Neil sighed, going back to stroking the pest. “Proper names, Andrew.”

Andrew contemplated buying a brush for him. It’d probably help save his own clothes, at any rate, and giving little gifts to Neil and watching him shut down was still incredibly amusing.

“Don’t look at me, then. You’re the one with experience making up names.”

“It’s not the same and you know it.”

Neil looked troubled by that, as if he’d just realized how permanent he was making his stay. Andrew wondered how this became his life – sharing an apartment with his partner, waking up in the same bed, and arguing over what to name their cats.

“Time to expand your horizons, sweetheart.”

Scowling, Neil untangled himself from the throw he was under and stumbled over to the dining table, taking the little pest with him. The hell beast followed, because it was attention hungry and thought that the only thing better than being with Neil was being with both Andrew _and_ Neil.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to consider trying something new,” Neil said flirtily, which nearly made Andrew’s eyes roll. He tilted his head as Neil came closer, though, before Neil swerved away and only landed a pathetic little kiss on the tip of his nose instead. Unimpressed, Andrew watched as he repeated the kiss with the hell beast, who had climbed onto the table, and the little pest, who had to be lifted up.

Andrew reached out and caught Neil’s shirt, tugging him down into what would have been a proper kiss if Neil hadn’t held the little pest in the way. He narrowed his eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Neil gave him a shit-eating grin that didn't do anything to his heartbeat. “Giving you incentive. You do the litter box and I'll kiss you.”

“You will find cat litter in your dinner,” Andrew promised. He pointedly ignored the way the hell beast inched its way towards the newspaper and the way Neil’s lips looked so inviting. As Andrew went back to his crossword, Neil made himself comfortable on the adjacent chair, pulling out his phone with one hand and absently entertaining the pest with the other.

When the hell beast, sick of being ignored, plopped itself squarely in the middle of his puzzle, Andrew finally decided to get up and make dinner.

And by the time they were ready for bed, Andrew got his goodnight kiss.

 

5.

Andrew turned to Neil with a question that had been burning on the tip of his tongue. “Is there a reason why you keep expecting me to get rid of the cats?”

It was already dark, despite it barely being past five. Neil was silent, for a moment, watching headlights zoom by as Andrew sped along the highway. Letting him gather his thoughts, Andrew made a quick lane change to the right to pass a car barely going ten above the speed limit. He turned down the radio.

“I don’t know,” Neil said at last. “I guess I keep thinking that one day you’ll decide that they’re too much trouble.”

There was something vaguely familiar about his tone, as if Neil was remembering something from his past again. “Is this another one of your issues?”

“Maybe.”

Andrew got onto the exit, the disappointment at being forced to decelerate curbed by the thought of their warm apartment and freezer stocked with ice cream. When he braked at a light, Neil finally spoke again.

“We were in Europe, I think. It was around when we first started running, and Mom was being cheap because we weren’t sure how far we could go with the stolen money. And it was raining, and cold, and we walked by this abandoned box filled with kittens and their mom, and I remember feeling so lost right then. I didn’t know _why_ we were running, but for some reason I thought we could at least save them. Mom got mad at me, when I asked.” In the flashing lights, Andrew could see Neil close his eyes. “It wasn’t the first time she hit me, but it was the first time I was ever angry that she did. Now, when I think about it, I remember how unfair it is to be punished just for existing.”

“Since when has anything ever been fair?” Andrew asked. Every reminder of the abuse Neil suffered under his mother made his blood boil, but right then the most important thing was getting Neil’s mind off of it. “You survived, and you got your shitty cats.”

Neil hummed in agreement, but didn’t say anything for the rest of the drive.

They got home and microwaved leftovers, content to let diet plans slip before the upcoming weekend. Tucked under the throw with the cats and watching whatever random movie Andrew could find during his brief channel flipping, he finally told Neil, “Your turn.”

“Huh?”

“I asked my question. It’s your turn now.”

In his peripherals, Andrew could see Neil smile. “I didn’t think we still played.”

“How else are you supposed to keep me entertained?”

“Mmm,” Neil said eloquently. “And here I was thinking that it was the kissing.”

“Don’t be a smartass.” Just for that, Andrew turned and stole a quick kiss, one that had long been recognised as an ' _always yes_ '.

Neil was still grinning when Andrew pulled away. He snuggled closer into Andrew’s side and ignored the noises of protest the hell beast made at being disturbed. “I got one.”

“Save me from the suspense,” Andrew told the drama queen.

Neil laughed and tried to nip him on the ear, which Andrew deftly turned away from. “Would you kill me if I told you I asked the Foxes to name our cats?”

Andrew froze. “I always want to kill you,” he said automatically, before, “But depending on who you asked, I might want to kill you extra.”

“They voted. Nicky’s suggestions won.”

Sighing, Andrew humoured him. “And?”

“Meet King Fluffkins,” Neil said, pulling down the throw to reveal the little pest. He gestured at the hell beast in Andrew’s lap. “That’s Sir Fat Cat McCatterson.”

Andrew didn't know why he was even surprised.

 

6.

Andrew found himself settling into a life with the cats, nicknamed Sir and King so he could at least pretend his ridiculous cousin didn’t give them ridiculous names. They left out bowls of water and food for the days when they were out-of-state playing games, and came home to excited meows and more fur on previously black pants. Nail trimming became part of their schedule and Neil had even gone out and bought a cat ramp for King on his side of the bed.

(Sometimes, when Andrew was certain that Neil wouldn’t be back for a while, he’d tuck them in under the covers with him, if only because they were warm bodies and Andrew still wasn’t quite so used to cold winters.)

“If Sir doesn’t learn how to stay away from my lap, I’m tossing him out,” Andrew told Neil eventually, book pushed to the side so he could shove the interloper off. “Our garbage can latches.”

“Don't be mean,” Neil said. He quickly picked Sir up before he could jump back up, and settled in the far side of the couch. Content, Sir flicked his tail at Neil’s face and purred.

“Where’s the other one?” Andrew asked wearily.

“Scratch post.”

Andrew nodded and returned to his book, assured that he’d be unbothered for at least a little while. Just a few feet away from him, Neil and Sir were watching an Exy game and of fucking course Neil had somehow taught the cat to meow after every goal. When he finished his chapter, Andrew got up. He fished around his coat pockets for his lighter and a pack of cigarettes before making his way to the apartment’s tiny balcony.

The places he was allowed to smoke in were quickly diminishing. Professional teams didn't have Wymack’s tolerance to substance use and smoking around the cats was out of the question. Andrew had to make do with long car drives, window rolled down, or their balcony six stories above the ground.

Neil soon joined him, shutting the screen door behind himself so the cats couldn't come out. He leaned in for a whiff of Andrew’s smoke, and for a moment he was reminded of late nights on Fox Tower’s rooftop.

“Got your fix?”

Huffing a laugh, Neil reached out and caught Andrew’s fingers, bringing the cigarette in for a drag. “I see you’re getting yours.”

“Not when you're hogging it,” Andrew complained.

“Mmm,” agreed Neil, letting go before giving Andrew a smoky kiss. “I like this.”

“Don't you dare start getting sentimental.”

What Andrew didn't say was, “I like this too.” He pulled Neil in for another kiss, this one deep and slow where the other was chaste. His free hand made it’s way to Neil’s waist, and Neil soon leaned more weight in, hands tucked away in his pocket.

Neil pulled away and and hovered his lips near Andrew’s neck, almost right above his pulse point. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Andrew groaned out, stubbing out his cigarette onto the metal railing. He shivered as Neil mouthed at everything from his collarbone to the underside of his jaw, and moved his hand to the back of Neil’s own neck to pull him closer. Before long, Neil was occupying himself with Andrew’s hands, pressing kisses into his knuckles and slowly taking his fingertips into his mouth.

The light in a room of the building opposite to them suddenly turned on, and Andrew distinctly remembered its owner’s daily watering schedule and pathetic attempts at conversation.

“Neil,” he warned.

Neil sighed, but let go of him. They made their way back inside, relishing the change in temperature. King wobbled over, almost toppling over Andrew’s toes before he swooped down and picked him up.

“Your cats are losers,” he said to Neil. His heartbeat, already evening out after their kisses on the balcony, picked up again at the stupidly dopey smile Neil offered him.

 

7.

Their team had won the game against Washington 8-5, practice the next day was cancelled on account of the fact that even professional athletes were useless when suffering from hangovers, and Andrew had Neil moaning out his name.

If not for the night light, the whole room would have been dark. With it, Andrew could see the way Neil’s eyes were clenched shut, along with the faint outline of _Minyard_ on the rumpled jersey Neil was wearing.

They were lying face-to-face on the bed, blankets shoved messily down to their feet. Every one of Neil’s breaths could be felt across Andrew’s face as he slowly fingered him open, one of Neil’s legs thrown over his waist to give better access. Neil’s hands alternated between tangling in Andrew’s hair and running up and down his bare back. Andrew’s free one busied itself exploring the expanse of his stomach.

Times when Andrew could lazily work Neil to the brink were few and far between with their busy schedules. He curled his index finger inside of Neil, relishing the way he groaned, before letting himself be pulled into a bruising kiss. Andrew was achingly hard, but he was content to focus solely on seeing if Neil could get any louder.

“You look so good,” Andrew told him, working in another finger. His other hand moved down to stroke Neil to the same rhythm. “I want to make you come. Just like this.”

“Andrew,” Neil moaned between his chants of _yes_. He finally settled his hands in Andrew’s hair, rubbing at his scalp without pulling.

Neil’s lips were glistening in the faint light, swollen from kisses and from Neil biting them. Leaning forward, Andrew decided to help them along. He rubbed at Neil’s prostate, switching between barely-there brushes and harder presses that made Neil’s hips buck forward.

Andrew could tell Neil was getting close. Pre-come was getting all over the sheets and the heel of his foot would dig into Andrew’s back whenever he curled his fingers a certain way. Determined to make Neil fall apart, Andrew finally added a third finger, slipping in using just the excess amounts of lube leaking out of Neil’s ass. He changed pace and started fucking Neil with his fingers, withdrawing nearly completely before shoving in at the perfect angle.

Neil was completely incoherent. He used the hands in Andrew’s hair to bring him into another, desperate kiss. Andrew let his eyes fall shut. Pulling out his fingers so only the last digits were still inside Neil, he was almost certain Neil would come from a final thrust.

Except the bed suddenly jolted as weight got added. Andrew’s eyes flew open to meet Neil’s, and whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t two loud meows.

“It’s Sir and King,” Neil announced, as if Andrew couldn't figure it out.

“Get rid of them,” he said, voice hoarse and breathing uneven. “I don’t care if you think they’ll stay on your side.”

Unlike all the times before when the cats climbed onto the bed, this time Neil agreed. There was a moment of confusion as Neil tried to move and Andrew remembered that he was still hooked inside him. He pulled out, and even though their stupid cats interrupted their fucking, the involuntary moan Neil let out still settled something in his gut.

“Lock them out,” Andrew called out. He liked the way his jersey hung off of Neil’s frame, and resolved to do this more often so long as the door was firmly locked.

Neil huffed, but carefully picked up King and got batted in the face for his troubles. Sir followed the two of them out into the hallway, where Neil quickly shut them out before turning the lock.

“It’s almost like being back in college,” Neil said drily, making his way back.

“As I recall, it’d normally be you who forgot to lock the door on Kevin,” Andrew agreed.

“You were distracting me.”

Andrew watched as Neil carefully laid back where he was, movements slow and tense. He gasped when Andrew pulled him closer and Andrew could feel his smile against his mouth.

“Still yes?”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated :) Come find me on [tumblr](http://broship-addict.tumblr.com)!


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